Richie had stopped playing around these past few days, and he had stopped following the gossip, too. Every day, he raced against the clock and studied hard.
While Anya fought with Twilight as he helped her study, Richie quietly studied alone in his room.
While Yuri tutored Anya, Richie quietly studied alone in his room.
Even when Si Ang wanted to come over and play on the weekend, Richie refused and sent him back to school without lifting his head, then went right on studying quietly in his room.
Yor brought over a bowl of washed fruit and some warm milk.
She gazed tenderly at Richie, who sat on a little stool with his back straight, meticulously forming every stroke of every word.
Every word Richie wrote seemed to have a soul of its own, making his handwriting a pleasure to look at.
Even Yor could not help marveling. Richie was already so outstanding, yet now he had started working hard, too, when he used to spend every day sleeping.
It was not gifted people who were frightening, but people more gifted than you who also worked harder than you.
That probably described Richie as he was now.
Twilight looked at Anya, frustrated that she could not live up to her potential.
But every child had their own strengths. Anya was innocent and curious about everything,
so she could not sit still, disliked all this dry material, and did not like studying.
Richie was different. He was the precocious sort of child.
On the surface, he seemed indifferent to everything, even a little roguish.
Richie did not work hard, did not want to do anything, and did not even have any particular ambitions.
Yet Richie understood things better than anyone. He knew what mattered and what needed to come first,